


Crawl

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confinement, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insects, Nightmares, Panicked Dean Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Rescue, Restraints, Torture, bobby is a good dad, gagged, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: Dean goes looking for a Wendigo.It's typical Winchester luck that he finds someone worse.





	Crawl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a gen SPN Kink Meme fill.

Once, drunk and sullen, John had warned Dean the mouth on him would make someone want to shut it one day.

His dad had been proven right more than once, and Dean had never learned his lesson. But when some asswipe was talking shit, Dean didn’t have it in him to just nod and grin.

Even when there were consequences.

He snarled through the gag as he heard the guy moving around outside the confines of the box. Whatever he was up to, Dean had a feeling he wouldn't like it at all.

Right now, though, there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. Each wrist was roped above his head to opposite sides of the box he was in, and his ankles were bound at the bottom in the same way.

He’d already chafed them badly by struggling, but the guy who’d taken him had searched him thoroughly while he was helpless, and stripped him of all his weapons.

Even if the man had left him any knives, Dean would have struggled to free himself like this.

So, until Bobby figured out where he was, Dean was pretty much stuck.

He heard the guy muttering to himself and then he grunted as if he was straining against something.

Dean stopped struggling, and tried to listen. Not that it made much difference, since there was zilch he could do about it, but he wanted to know what was going on.

The guy leaned over him then, part of his body twisted away as if he was holding something. Dean eyed him, warily.

“Comfy?” The guy chuckled at him. “Don’t know what you were looking for out in my woods, boy, but I bet you’re sorry you came around here. I don’t get a lot of visitors, and that’s how I like it. Nosy people get what’s coming to them.”

Dean mumbled through the gag, futilely. He didn’t know who this guy was; his whole reason in being in the woods was that he and Bobby suspected a wendigo might be hunting in the area. 

Since this guy was apparently living here and hadn’t been strung up like a side of salted meat, that probably meant their theory was wrong. 

But it was just his luck, Dean cursed inwardly, to go hunting for a wendigo and find some psycho kidnapper instead.

Fuck, he hoped Bobby was close.

“Yeah, you probably want to tell me how it’s all a big misunderstanding, right?”

Dean nodded, frantically. It actually was, though he didn’t think explaining the real reason for his presence on this guy’s land would seem any more plausible.

“Shame I don’t believe you. Well, maybe in a while you’ll be a little more talkative. Once my little friends have spent some quality time with you.”

Yeah, that Dean definitely didn’t like the sound of. The guy heaved something onto the side of the box, a wooden case of some kind. He flipped the lid open, grinned down at Dean, and then tipped the case over.

Dean didn’t know what it was, at first. His mind went into overdrive, and then he was back in the box he’d woken up in, buried feet under ground.

But it wasn’t dirt that the guy had poured onto him. For one thing, it was kind of cold, and it was spreading, and it ...was…

Holy shit, it was moving.

They were moving.

Bugs. The box was now filled with bugs. Crawling, slithering, suddenly everywhere. Dean flailed frantically, gave a strangled yell through his gag. His wrists and ankles felt like they were on fire as he writhed and struggled, and did nothing but tear the skin there.

The fuckers were under his clothes now, scuttling over his skin, wriggling through his hair.

His shook his head desperately, trying to make sure none got on his face, in his ears…

They were in his pants. 

He screamed, the sound muffled by the filthy rag knotted across his mouth. Panic took away all rational thought. He fought, as hard as he could, but they were everywhere, and some of them were biting and…

The gunshot rang out loud, clear, piercing his panic. Panting, Dean froze in place, distracted for a few seconds from the horrific sensation of prickling legs and cold, sharp shells as things scuttled and crawled across him.

And then Bobby’s head popped into view above him, and Dean wanted to cry.

He yelled Bobby’s name through the gag, and Bobby cursed.

“Hang on, Dean,” he said. “Just hang on.”

++

Dean shuddered as he stripped his tee shirt off. His chest and stomach were covered in tiny, reddened bites and he suspected his back was the same.

As he kicked off his boots, and shoved his jeans down, he saw similar marks on his legs. Where there weren’t bites, there were raised lines in his flesh, probably some reaction to whatever had crawled over that part of him.

He dry heaved for a couple of minutes, unable to get the feeling of the insects crawling all over him while he fought and screamed.

Yeah, epic performance. Got caught and knocked out by some crazy guy, tied up and shoved in a box and then had a screaming fit thanks to some bugs.

Dean glanced down and saw one tiny gleaming back body scuttle out from the pile of his clothes. He grabbed his boot and dropped it on the little bastard, and then thumped it down a couple more times just to be sure.

Bobby opened the door a couple of moments later and stood in the doorway looking at him.

“You okay?”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, of course.” _No, not fucking close_.

Bobby gave him an acid stare. “Sure. You look like you got chewed on by a hundred pair of tiny teeth. You take those pills I gave you?”

Dean nodded. Bobby had been real worried about him having some kind of allergic reaction, and had shoved a couple of small blue tablets at him the minute they got back. 

He doesn't feel any different but that could mean they're working or he didn't need them. 

Either way. 

Bobby's staring at him. 

“I’m okay,” Dean insists. He doesn't even sound convincing to himself but it doesn't matter because he has to be. 

Bobby grunts at him and then goes, closing the door over behind him. 

Dean starts the shower and scrubs harder than he should, until he draws blood. 

++

He doesn't know he's awake, or screaming, until he realises Bobby’s shaking him and yelling his name.

Dean doesn’t know he’s just sat up and thrown himself at Bobby until the older man’s arms are tight around him and he’s telling Dean fiercely that he’s okay.

That he’s not back in that house.

That’s he’s home. He's safe.

That Bobby’s got him, that he’s there.

It takes him a long time to calm down, and shame crowds him as the panic subsides.

He starts to pull back, and somehow he guesses that Bobby knows, because he won’t let go.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns. “You got no reason to ever feel sorry for being scared, not around me. You think I don’t know? When something gets in there and bites down and won’t let go?”

He feels Bobby’s hand come to rest lightly at the back of his head, index finger tapping against his skull.

“So don’t you try to pull away from me, Dean. You never let anybody take care of you, son. Always got to fight. Not this time, you hear me?”

Dean’s strength seems to leave him and he sags against Bobby. They don’t move for a while, and then Bobby gently eases him back until Dean’s flat on the bed.

“You gonna be able to sleep?”

The bedside lamp’s on, and Dean knows he turned it off before he fell asleep, even though he wanted the light, needed it.

Bobby, he figures. 

He stares at it, almost hypnotised. The room is just a room. There’s nothing crawling up the walls, over his blankets, over him.

There’s just him, and Bobby, and that’s it.

He won’t say it, that the house feels empty with just them both there. 

And he won’t say that he is not going to get back to sleep, not tonight.

Not once Bobby’s gone, and the light’s off, anyway. 

Bobby nods, as if coming to some decision.

There’s an old easy chair in the corner. He drags it over, and settles down into it, puts his feet up on the edge of the bed.

“Bobby?”

Bobby tsks him. “Go back to sleep, Dean. Nothing’s getting in here tonight.”

Dean eyes him, and as usual the sass isn’t far from his tongue. “You gonna snore?”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Bobby retorts. “Boy, it sounds like a damn locomotive’s pulling in when you get started.”

Dean grins, and it feels real, and then settles down a little further in the bed. He tugs the blankets up.

And then he sleeps.


End file.
